I saw a red octopus, once,
its tentacles cut off,
through years of abuse,
hardened by the teeth of liberty: of
red, white, and blue

The octopus is red now,
its limbs regrown and out-spread,
long and wiry suction cuffs
protruding from its bulbous, cruel head

It had a clam in its beak
and promised me that it wouldn't eat
as sharks had done way back
"It's shell is far too hard for me," it said,
as the shell began to crack

A million voices inside,
silenced by a sea of red